


The art of being fine

by SmileDesu



Series: V2 [24]
Category: Young Avengers
Genre: Blood, Cutting, Depression, Gen, M/M, Scars, Self Harm, self hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 14:41:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2696678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmileDesu/pseuds/SmileDesu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being fine is easier said than done, especially when everyone you care for knows you're faking it. How far are you willing to go to maintain the illusion, Billy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The art of being fine

"Billy, are you alright?" The question catches him off-guard, making him look up with surprise at the man who asked it. He's known him his entire life, and the concerned expression on Jeff's face is one Billy is no stranger to. The frown speaks of worry and helplessness, a loss as to what's troubling his son or how he can help. Creses run under his thick brown hair meticulously combed from one side of his forehead to the other. His will to help is genuine, Billy knows, and he appreciates it, but it's uncalled for.  
  
"I'm fine," he says and smiles, yet the gesture only makes his father's frown deepen. He in response leans back in his seat and repeats the claim, voice holding a touch of insistence to it. "Really, I am."  
  
The silence is heavy and imposing, but as Billy says nothing more, Jeff ultimately yields.  
  
"Alright, I'll take your word for it, Sport. But if you think of something, _anything--_ "  
  
"I know where to find you." Billy says around a soft snicker. His father seems displeased with this outcome but exits the room regardless, leaving Billy to wonder what brought that about.  
  
–  
  
"Honey?" This time it's Rebecca, catching him in the kitchen after dinner. The rest of the household already disbanded, even Teddy ultimately leaving upon Billy's insistence that he can finish cleaning up on his own. It gives Rebecca a convenient excuse to be in the kitchen - she wants to help, and Billy knows she won't take no for an answer so he doesn't even try, instead letting her invade the kitchen without a fight. He quickly loses count of how many times they almost walk into each other. Each time the woman smiles at him brightly if a bit sheepishly and he smiles back weakly. He tries to put some distance between them but they end up in the same predicament not one minute later.  
Finally all the dishes are left to dry out and the leftovers are safely deposited in the fridge, but they don't leave yet. Rebecca pulls out one of the chairs by the kitchen table and something inside Billy sinks. This is going to be A Talk, he knows, but takes his seat anyway. Rebecca still moves about, fetching them drinks, some water for her and a glass of lemonade for him. He takes several sips and listens to her as she starts off on not quite a neutral topic, but a safe one. Safer than most, at least. A patient of hers- no names given, of course- is a fan, apparently. Has been following the Young Avengers since their early days, and oh, they're _so_ happy they're back in action- even if not as much since they got back around New Year's. Billy smiles but it's a hollow, mechanical gesture. He looks down at his drink, fingers tightening around the glass while the other hand grips onto his wrist. Of course, his mother can read him even when he's not being this obvious, so at the nervous gesture she steers the conversation away into some more casual subjects. Finally she moves the focus to him, letting him get in some words more than just cued responses to her stories.  
He has little to tell. He's doing fine, save for all the catching up he has to do, naturally not telling her of other activities he and Teddy are partaking in still. It's best they don't know, Billy thinks and listens to Rebecca go on about how it's a good thing they let him retake those classes, and he's always been such a studious child, and she's quite impressed with how he's investing himself in it, but the most important thing is that they work on their communication so that something like this doesn't happen again. He's still trying to place the statement, get why she said it when she rests her hand over the one of his still gripping his wrist.  
  
"Whatever it is, Billy, you can talk to me about it. I'll listen, I promise."  
  
His smile is small and weary. The thing she's talking about, that she needs _him_ to talk about, she'll listen alright, but will it register this time? Will she actually hear him out, or will she disregard it, making him feel foolish for trusting in what he's known his whole life? He can't go through that again, and is overwhelmed by the need to tell her exactly that. It's pointless though, he knows, but she's expecting a response so he looks up at her only to find the words and his breath caught in his throat. Her eyes are set on him, brown spheres intent and bright and oh so worried behind her glasses. He looks down again, his gaze falling on her hand. He never gets how despite her long nails she never hurts him and this time is no different. All he feels is how small and warm and _present_ her hand is over his own, like it always has been, and he feels himself wavering. Maybe he _can_ tell her. Maybe it'll be alright. And if not _that_ , then maybe- maybe other things, like what happened with Teddy, and Loki, and what- what he almost _did_ \--  
  
A lump forms in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He looks up and her brows climb up her forehead in silent expectation. It turns into confusion when he brings his hand to rest over hers instead, and she looks at him questioningly while hooking her thumb with his finger.  
  
"I'm _fine_." He says at last and squeezes her hand. "Besides, the last thing you need is to hear me _whine_." He laughs slightly, only to be met with a frown.  
  
"Sweetie, if it bothers you, it's _not whining_."  
  
He shakes his head, but only briefly. "I _am_ fine, though, so... just a bit over-worked."  
  
She seems as unconvinced as he knows she should be, but he also knows she's not going to push him too hard, so when she leans back, seeming even more concerned than when they started, he's both relieved and grateful.  
  
"And speaking of work--" He pulls his hands back and pushes himself up. "I still have this hand-in for tomorrow, so..."  
He rests a hand on her shoulder and leans down to kiss her forehead. "I love you, mom." He whispers and notices the slight hunching of her shoulders.  
  
"I love you too, sweetheart. Don't stay up too late."  
  
"I'll try," is the best he manages. The smile leaves his lips as soon as he has his back turned to her.  
  
–  
  
The third person confronting him that very day waits for him when he walks back into his room, seeking solace. At first Billy thinks it's one of his brothers and is prepared to engage in combat when he realizes the person slumped over his bed is Teddy. It helps negate the anger, but the tension fails to subside. If anything, it worsens.  
  
"I was sure your room was further down the hall...?" Billy asks, hoping the mock-anger in his voice covers up his unease. Teddy doesn't look at him and instead holds up the books he's been reading, one Billy borrowed from him the other day and still hasn't returned.  
  
"It is, but _this_ was here." Teddy replies and waves the book around a bit. "There was this scene I had to look up to check something--"  
  
"And you ended up reading on."  
  
"The plan _originally_ was to ask the guy who's read beyond where I stopped last time, despite me owning the thing, but alas, he was held up elsewhere. It's your fault, really."  
  
"It always is," Billy sighs theatrically. The statement seem to draw a reaction out of Teddy who pushes himself up on his elbows but Billy doesn't give him a chance to say anything.  
"This time's on mom though, she held me up in the kitchen. Blame _her_ and her _talk_ \--"  
Too late Billy realizes that was a mistake. Teddy's sitting up now and looks at him worriedly.  
  
"You had a _talk_?"  
  
Billy closes his eyes and plants himself on the bed next to Teddy who leans closer. "The usual. That I should talk to her if something's wrong, that we need to work on our communication... nothing new there. Basically the most extravagant, over the top 'are you ok' she could pull."  
  
" _Are_ you?"  
  
Billy snorts in dismissal but Teddy still has that _look_ on his face. Billy tilts his head and looks at him from between his bangs.  
  
"What do _you_ think?"  
  
Teddy doesn't reply instantly, and when he does, his voice is low and strained. "I think, even if you weren't, you wouldn't tell me so easily." The words carry with them a certain pained quality that further increases their weight. Billy feels a knot forming in his throat, especially so when Teddy tentatively reaches for his hand, resting on the mattress between them. It's Billy's intention to handwave the accusation away, to fully debunk it, but despite his best efforts the sound that leaves him is a snarl, bitter and cold.  
  
"Oh that's rich, coming from _you_ \--"  
  
The concerned expression doesn't disappear completely from Teddy's face, but it's barely noticeably compared to the pained look he's now sporting, not unlike that of a man stabbed through the gut. Billy gulps, feeling a chilly void spreading inside him.  
  
"... _Shit_ \--!" He tries to hold Teddy's hand but it's pulled away. "Ted, God, I'm sorry, that was--"  
  
" _True_ ," Teddy counters softly, simply, a sad smile tugging at his lips. He doesn't exactly take Billy's hand, but lets their fingers brush over the mattress. "You're right. That time, I messed up, royally. I had so many reasons, so many justifications, but in hindsight they were all just excuses. I _should've_ talked to you. I know things would've been different if I did. I'm not sure how much given certain... _outside influences_..."  
Billy hunches his shoulders, but Teddy refuses to let him withdraw and rests his hand over Billy's, holding it tightly.  
"It would've made a difference between _us_."  
  
The lump in Billy's throat grows as does the pressure in his chest, weighing down on his heart as it beats faster. He stares down at their hands and finally lifts his index finger, twining it with Teddy's. The gesture is small but significant and Teddy leans forward, his voice soft.  
  
"Talk to me, Bee. What's eating you?"  
  
"...what makes you think there's anything bothering me?" Billy asks with a laugh, wavering and unsteady. Teddy winces, obviously not buying it, and seeming quite upset by Billy's refusal to be honest with him.  
  
"How about the fact even your _dad_ noticed something was wrong? I know he talked to you earlier."  
  
"Mom probably told him--"  
  
"Which means your _mom_ picked up on something."  
  
" _Ted_."  
  
"Billy, her intuition puts the Hawkeyes' accuracy to shame. She gave you a _talk_ , why are you denying it?"  
  
No words leave him even though he's adamant to resist. Teddy sighs and brings his free hand to Billy's face.  
  
"I'm _not_ the enemy, Bee, I just want to help. _Please_?"  
  
A moment passes with nothing happening, but then Billy finds himself gravitating towards Teddy. Teddy, sweet, kind, wonderful Teddy leans closer too. Their shoulders touch, and if Billy focuses he can hear Teddy's breathing. It shakes something inside him that comes loose and out in a heavy breath. He goes slightly limp and Teddy lets go of his hand in favor of wrapping his arm around his shoulder. Was Teddy's embrace always so warm, Billy wonders and closes his eyes. Warm, steady... restricting.  
  
"I'm... _tired_ , Ted." He starts and tries not to think too much about where he's going with this, mostly because he isn't sure. His voice is heavier than intended, honestly hurting, but it's gone the next moment. He knows what to say. "All those late-nights, deadlines, so much to catch up on..." He pinches the bridge of his nose and tries not to wince when Teddy tightens his hold.  
  
"Hey, you're almost there, not much left now, and you've been doing great so far. Just a bit more and we'll be free."  
  
"Yeah, I know..." Billy replies and rubs his eyes. "Though it's hard to think about it like that while you're right in the middle of it... and 'you' just happens to be _me_ , the world's biggest _optimist_ \--"  
  
"Stop that." Teddy berates softly, cutting the attempt at self-deprecation short. He rests his hand on the side of Billy's head, pulling him close so he could kiss his cheek.  
"You'll pull through, I know you will."  
  
Neither says much for a moment until Teddy pulls back, the fingers still in Billy's hair rubbing his scalp fondly.  
  
"Tell you what, why not call it an early night tonight?"  
  
"Because I have a hand-in--"  
  
"That you can still manage if you wake up before noon. You told me your schedule, remember?"  
  
Billy looks away and Teddy presses on, reluctant to let go of the offensive. "Grab a shower, soak up in the steam, and I'll have a nice cup of cocoa ready for you to set you up for bed when you're done. Billy..." He smoothes his hand over Billy's hair and is uncertain how to take the way Billy's eyes close, like he's holding himself back still.  
"You have to take better care of yourself."  
  
A sound leaves Billy, not unlike- a snort, was it? He pulls back, an expression Teddy can't quite read on his face. Finally he smiles, a look that speaks of resignation more than anything. Teddy's about to comment about that- or rather, ask- or _something_ , but--  
  
"You're right." Billy says and licks his lips. "One night off won't kill me-"  
  
"On the contrary," Teddy reassures and rubs Billy's shoulder. Billy smiles a bit more widely at that.  
  
"That post-shower cocoa sounds great. Any chance for cream on it?"  
  
"You know, I think we even have some marshmallows left."  
  
Billy chuckles and nods, and doesn't pull away when Teddy kisses his cheek again.  
  
"Don't worry, I won't make it until you're out, so take your time."  
  
Billy nods slowly. "Ok. But you better go and secure the marshmallows. Meanwhile, I-" His breath hitches, his lips quiver for just a moment. There's very little joy in the smile Teddy can't quite see.  
"I'll go and take care of myself."  
  
Teddy's reassured, at least, and he leaves the room, taking Billy's smile with him altogether. The mage stares at the closed door for a moment before turning to the task of collecting a change of clothes. There's a numbness in the pit of his stomach that resembles nausea as he goes about it, but he tells himself it'll go away once he keeps up his promise to Teddy, even if he knows that when he and Teddy talk about his self-care they mean very different things.  
  
–  
  
He listens to the water hitting the ceramics in the shower booth, the sound distorted by the bathroom's acoustics. Steam begins to rise and fill the room and he takes off his clothes, dumping them in the hamper. From there he walks to the door and tries the lock. He locked it when he entered but he tries again, twice, three times, then he tries the handle. The door won't budge. He returns to the booth and checks the water. It's hot and he collects just enough water with both hands to run over his arms, his chest, his face. He doesn't step in, turning instead to the sink. His hands, still on his face, are dragged down slowly as he stares at his reflection. What he manages to see before the fog clouds the mirror is someone he barely recognizes. Tired, distant, bitter... no... no, those things he knows well, intimately so. Isn't that why the three people closest to him spent the past day fussing over him?  
A chuckle leaves him, gasped out. It's hard to breathe and he can't blame the steam quite yet. He inhales and exhales, hands still on his face, fingers poking at his jaw-line. It's a habit, really, and the conclusion he reaches, that he doesn't _need_ to shave yet, matters little. He's made a promise to his partner so he opens the cabinet, pushes aside the shaving machine and pulls out a razor. His heart beats faster and he tries to ignore the lightheadedness it brings, instead looking down at his arms. How many times did people look at him today, he wonders. How many of them even touched him, he tries to count and runs a finger over his arm. And yet none of them saw it, he thinks with a bitter, desperate smile and counts.  
  
One, two.  
  
Pale pinkish marks, starting at his wrist, going up, invisible to all but him.  
  
Five, six...  
  
Never down the road, just across the street.  
  
Nine... eleven.  
  
Plan A before Plan B, always.  
  
Today would be the twelfth. Twelve scars since they came back, all his doing.  
  
He starts the water in the sink, cold, a contrast to the fog that surrounds him. He purses his lips and wipes the fog from the mirror. The person staring back and quickly engulfed by the returning steam looks nothing like what Billy saw earlier. Now he just seems broken.  
  
The razor is brought to his arm but he pulls it away with a gasp. Why did it have to come to this, he wonders helplessly. There's no answer - it simply did. He looks up and sees the groups of toothbrushes in two cups. His parents; his brothers; Teddy. Oh, if they only knew, he gasps and pants as his insides turn to knots, fists clenched over the counter. What would they think? His parents would be worried sick, all the while trying to keep up a brave front. Teddy'll blame himself, not a completely uncalled-for act, but they're trying to move past that, and for that Billy has to do his part too.  
  
"... _own it_." He hisses and looks down at the razor, a gift for his eighteenth birthday. He promised he'd put it to good use. He hates breaking his promises.  
  
He inhales sharply and betters his hold on the razor, breaths coming out quick and short. He _needs to_ _own it_. His parents deserve better than an oldest child who keeps falling apart. His brothers deserve a brother they can rely on, so do his friends. None of them have to worry about him so much, he shouldn't- mustn't- be a burden. And Teddy...? A sob filters past Billy's clenched teeth.  
  
_Teddy fell in love with a superhero_.  
  
The razor breaks skin and cuts into the flesh. He makes it deep, the pressure applied steadily. He starts before the last line did and ends after, leaving a gash across his forearm - another one. The razor is discarded in the sink, submerged in water that's quickly painted red. He doesn't even look when he grabs his arm, applying pressure over the wound, drawing both blood and pain out of himself. The pain is sharp, milking a hiss out of him when he presses his thumb against the cut. He brings it under the running water then, the current stinging, punishing him further. His teeth dig into his lower lip, especially so when he forces himself to look down. The blood streams down his arm, mixing with the water and swirling down the drain. Blood - his blood, which he drew--  
That's when something breaks, and the crying starts. He leans against the wall, against the counter, shoulders rocking as he sobs. His hand slips, the friction over the cut blunt and clumsy. It hurts, yet he betters his hold and makes it hurt even more. It's not even about deserving this - even though he thinks he does. It's a matter of necessity - he _has_ to do this. Has to...  
  
How he managed to stay upright is beyond him, but he lacks the presence of mind needed to bother with that question. He pulls his nose and looks down at the bloodied mess. He tries to wash the sink but ah- not much good will come of that while the bleeding continues, he reckons. He exhales loudly to cover another sob and brings his hand up, forcing it to stop shaking even if he's shivering all over. The next sound that comes out of him, just as he finally manages the healing spell, is laughter. Hollow, exhausted, empty. He simply laughs because at least for a while, he's finally empty again.  
Another spell and the sink is clean, leaving Billy to examine his handiwork. The cut is not fully healed but is no longer bleeding, and a quick brush of his fingers over it shoots another spark of pain through him. He's satisfied it will serve him well for the next few days, but for the time being he's had his fill. Feeling almost as though he's floating, he steps into the shower and tries not to focus too much on the sting of the water running over his arm.  
  
–  
  
"Heeey, that took you a while," Teddy greets when Billy joins him in the kitchen in his pajamas with a small towel over his head. "Was beginning to think you drowned."  
  
"I... felt like taking my time," Billy explains. Teddy picks it up as the apology it is and cups Billy's cheek with a hand. He's grateful when Billy leans into the touch, cheeks still red and warm.  
  
"No need to apologize, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Now, as promised--" Teddy turns away before he can see Billy's smile waver. 'Enjoy' wasn't quite how he'd put it, but that moment's gone and there's his Captain Marvel cup, filled with cocoa and all the extras Teddy promised. Actually feeling somewhat excited at the sight, Billy takes the mug with both hands, leaving Teddy's free to run over his arms. Granted, that means it's a matter of time before he touches the new sore-spot, causing Billy to hiss in pain when he does.  
  
"Wha-what is it? Billy?!" Teddy asks and looks down at Billy's arms, trying to see what brought this reaction about. Billy stares at him, heart racing as for a moment, he isn't sure he can hide it anymore with his magic. And for a moment, he isn't sure he wants to. But-  
  
"I don't see anything," Teddy says and frowns when he notices the way Billy deflates. "Bi--"  
  
"I must've scratched it scrubbing or something," Billy replies and smiles. "All the more proof I need to go to bed, right?"  
  
"...you said it," Teddy says after a moment and holds onto Billy's forearms, this time with care and caution. "C'mon, you'll beat this. You're gonna be fine."  
  
Billy nods and lowers his gaze to where Teddy's fingers rest over several scars, his partner non-the-wiser.  
  
"Yeah... _just_ fine."  



End file.
